Brightleaf by Raleigh Rand Read Free Book Online Page B

all day.
    I might not be college educated like Mary Beth, but I’ve been around the block a few times, and I can tell that Manchild is bad news. I ain’t sure what all kinds of drugs he’s on, but he is on disability. I already had me a taste of that disability sugar with Cleavon. He was always gettin jobs on the sly and hidin it from the government, so he could keep two checks. Anyway, Mary Beth says her grandma told her that a man is like a Bible prophecy: Sweet in the mouth, but bitter in the belly. I ain’t sure exactly what that means, but I suspect it’s somethin like: Fun to kiss, but don’t get knocked up. That’s some good advice.

10
    The Traffic Light
    Mary Beth
    I’ve got four kids packed into the Subaru, one in the front and three in the back, and we’re bound for Toddlers Are People, Too. The biggest pain about driving the carpool is strapping those toddler boosters in every single school day, but like I said, I just want to lend a hand. Dr. Kelly is on the radio, and I’m fixing to see what kind of advice she’s gonna give to the woman who just called in. The Doctor Kelly Show is like Jerry Springer, only you don’t have the advantage of actually seeing what the guests look like. On television, when the guests come traipsing out on stage, the audience immediately knows they’ve got a special case on their hands. The anxiety starts building the moment you lay eyes on the puny, goateed boyfriend. It seems like the boyfriend isn’t fully formed yet, like he’s stuck in some kind of metamorphosis between tadpole and man. Then the wife or girlfriend stomps out looking like a sumo wrestler, wearing a bikini top and low-slung shorts, with a bunch of Chinese letters tattooed across her chest. A lot of people get real emotional about Asian lettering, as if anything written in Chinese must embody all that is peaceful, or yin yang, or feng shui, but for all they know, that tattoo says something real terrible in Chinese, like “puppy eater.” I’m just saying, if I need an interpreter to read it, it’s not gonna get permanently stamped into my skin.
    Dr. Kelly’s latest caller says, “Dr. Kelly, my husband is paralyzed from the waist down. I feel like he should help with the dishes since his arms work…”
    I can’t stand it anymore. I click off the AM station and push in my Linda Ronstadt’s Greatest Hits tape. I fast forward to my favorite song and start singing, “You and I travel to the beat of a different drum, Oh, can’t you tell by the way I run, every time you make eyes at me.” I belt it out to the toddlers, while they clap their chubby hands. “And I ain’t sayin’ you ain’t pretty, All I’m saying is I’m not ready—” When I’m distracted by something in my rearview mirror. Linda and I are going to have to pick this up later because I’m being tailgated again. By the same individual as always. At the red light, I stop and he stops behind me. I put the car in park, roll down the windows, and remove the key. In the words of the monkey from the Lion King, It is time.
    I turn to the toddlers and say, “Just a minute. Miss Mary Beth is gonna take care of a little business.” Then I shut the door and walk to the driver’s side door of the car behind me, and rap firmly on his window. He looks at me over his glasses and rolls down the window.
    “Hello, Dr. Dorrie,” I say. “Fancy seeing you here at the light, so close behind me.”
    “Do I know you?” he asks.
    I keep my composure, even though he does indeed know me. He’s seen me in nothing but a paper gown. I realize he’s got several mental hurdles that must affect him every minute of every day, so I help him by removing my sunglasses and say, “I’m one of your patients, Mary Beth Green.”
    “Cape Cod?”
    “Nooo.”
    The light turns green and the cars behind us start honking, and driving around us. About that same time Dr. Dorrie’s face breaks out into this huge smile and he says, “Juuust kidding. How could